


Persistent

by RadarsTeddyBear



Series: Ducktober 2018 [15]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Drugging, Fictober, Gen, Kidnapping, prompt: drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadarsTeddyBear/pseuds/RadarsTeddyBear
Summary: Mark Beaks hasn't quite finished trying to get his hands on the Gizmoduck suit.





	Persistent

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ["Drugged"](http://radarsteddybear.tumblr.com/post/169006603389/whumpreads-i-dont-draw-but-ive-been-thinking).

“Have no fear; Gizmoduck is here!” Fenton--er, Gizmoduck--shouted as he burst into the Duckburg National Bank.  He was working on his catchphrase, and a bank robbery courtesy of the Beagle Boys (taking a break from going after the Money Bin) seemed as good a time as any to do it.  

The mere sight of Gizmoduck was enough to send one of the Beagle Boys running, though his brother (they were brothers, right?) pulled him back.  

“This is your one warning!” Gizmoduck said.  “If you don’t surrender now, I’ll be forced to resort to...uh...force!”

“I think we should listen to him,” said the Beagle Boy who’d tried to run.  

“Fat chance,” said one of the others.  “What can he do? He’s just a robot!”

“There’s a lot I can do, lawbreaking citizen!” Gizmoduck said.  He pushed a button on his sleeve and half a dozen rockets sprang out of the suit, ready to be deployed.  “Wait, that’s not what I meant--”

“I don’t care about you guys, I’m getting out of here!” said that one Beagle Boy.

“I’m with you, Burger,” the big one said.

“What are you guys waiting for?  Let’s scram!” said the little one, and the three Beagle Boys high-tailed it out of the bank.

Gizmoduck pressed a few more buttons on his suit, and finally the rockets folded back into his suit.  When he looked up, he found himself surrounded by a growing crowd taking pictures and videos and shouting out questions and thanks.

“Thank you for the recognition,” he told the crowd.  He didn’t have time to linger today. “I must be going.  Even in a city as wonderful as Duckburg, crime--” Suddenly, Fenton felt a sharp pinch in his back.  He tried to turn around to see what it was, but the crowd was too close. “...crime never sleeps!” He activated his rocket thrusters, but before he could take off he was overtaken by a wave of dizziness.  “Crime…” He raised an arm in the air and tried again to take off, but instead, he found himself falling backwards. Fenton was vaguely aware of someone catching him.

“Don’t worry, friends,” said a strangely familiar voice.  “Just a suit malfunction. Nothing to see here.”

The voice’s words faded away as the world grew dim and distant and then finally black.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Fenton was aware of was the feeling of cool air on his damp skin, a stark contrast from the close clamminess of the Gizmoduck suit.

The Gizmoduck suit!

Fenton forced his eyes open.  He found himself strapped down, to a...table?  Wait, what…?

“Ah, there you are, amigo!  Buenos días!”

Fenton felt his gut twist.  “What did you do with the suit?”

“Gizmoduck?  Oh, he’s in the lab.  He needs a little reconfiguring after your, ah, scientist tightened his security restrictions.”

Fenton lay back on the table as every curse word in the book ran through his head.  Good thing Mamá wasn’t here; somehow, she’d know _exactly_ what he was thinking, and she’d wash his mouth out with soap.

Then again, if Mamá were here, a lot of his problems would be solved…

“Now, I just need your help with this, amigo!”

Fenton’s gut clenched again.  He’d _never_ help Mark Beaks.

Beaks brought the chestplate of the Gizmoduck suit over.  “I just need you to give your authorization code, and I’ll be all set!”

“Never!” Fenton said, slipping in to his Gizmoduck voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  ‘I’m a hero, I can’t give in to you because you’re a “villain,”’” Beaks said with air quotes.  “‘Great, now that we’ve got that out of the way, the code, please?”

“No?” Fenton said, a little less sure this time.  What part of “never” did Beaks not understand?

“Come on, amigo, I don’t have all day,” Beaks said.  “I’ve got important Gizmoduck stuff to do.”

Fenton’s eyes narrowed.  “I will _never_ help you corrupt Gizmoduck.”

Beaks’ face turned dark, and Fenton could have sworn that the lights dimmed to match.  “This is your last chance.

But before Fenton could answer, the chestplate lit up and began pulling away from Beaks.

“What--hey!--what are you doing?” Beaks demanded.

Fenton could only watch, mouth agape, as the chestplate flew out of the room, dragging Beaks with it.  Moments later, Beaks backed back into the room, closely followed by a surprisingly menacing-looking empty Gizmoduck suit.

“How are you doing this?” Beaks asked, his voice cracking.

“Um…” Fenton said.

“Back away from the suit.  Back away from the suit,” the Gizmoduck suit started saying in a monotone voice.  “Back away from the suit. Back away from the suit.”

“Ok, ok!  Sheesh,” Beaks said.  “Call off your armor!”

“I can’t--” Fenton began, but then the Gizmoduck suit deployed the laser.  Beaks dove under the table.

“Call it off!  Call it off!” he shouted.

The suit wheeled over to Fenton and pointed its laser at his wrist.  Welp. This was it. The Gizmoduck suit had finally gone haywire. Goodbye, left hand, it was nice knowing you…

Fenton turned his head away and shut his eyes, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much.  He heard the laser turn on and held his breath, waiting for it to pierce his skin...but instead he felt a bit of heat and then a light breeze?

Oh.  The suit had cut through the straps holding him down.  Well. That made more sense.

The suit made quick work of the strap holding down his right hand, and Fenton sat up as it worked on the ones tying down his ankles.  As soon as he was free, he hopped off the table, but was quickly overcome by a wave of dizziness.

Luckily the suit was there to catch him.  It picked him up and took off, blasting through the ceiling and away to freedom.

“Whoa,” was all Fenton could say.  His mind was racing. He poked at the suit.  “Did you become sentient?”

“It’s me, you idiot,” the Gizmoduck suit said, much less robotically this time.

“M-Mr. Gearloose!” Fenton stammered.  “I-I can explain!”

“Explain what?” Mr. Gearloose said.  “I saw the security footage. There isn’t a whole lot you could have done to prevent this from happening."

“I swear, I didn’t do it on purpose, I tried everything I could, but--wait, what?”

“We’ll have to work on the suit, of course.  Clearly, the cracks in between the plates are much too big if Mark Beaks was able to insert a needle between them.  And of course you’ll have to severely limit your time spent reveling in the adoration of your fans.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Gearloose!” Fenton said.

“For what?” Mr. Gearloose said, annoyed.  “I expect you to get straight to work as soon as you get back--”  He paused as if listening to someone in the background. “Ugh, fine.  You can take the rest of the day off, and _then_ get straight to work.  Tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Gearloose, sir!” Fenton said.  He tried to salute, but he missed his forehead.

“Ok.  Maybe you shouldn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir,” Fenton said, and the Gizmoduck suit flew him off into the sunset.  Well, really the Money Bin. But to Fenton, they were the same thing.


End file.
